


No Place To Go But Down

by likeasugarcube



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Barebacking, Bathroom Sex, Coercion, Deepthroating, Facials, Glory Hole, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasugarcube/pseuds/likeasugarcube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick isn’t usually a fan of being on his knees in dirty bathroom stalls, but it’s been so fucking long he doesn’t even care. Forty five minutes could be enough time for them to both get off twice if they play their cards right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Place To Go But Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coricomile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/gifts).



> Merry Christmas! It's porn, the gift that keeps on giving.

They’re about a half hour outside of Milwaukee. The plan was to drop Andy off and be home in time for dinner. The plan it seems has been thwarted. They filled up the van at a rest stop, grabbed some snacks for the road and when they got back in, the engine refused to turn over. The day had started off so well too. Patrick should have known better than to think nothing would go wrong on their last day of tour. 

Andy’s calling AAA on a payphone, Joe wandered away as soon as Andy left, and Patrick is left to babysit the van with Pete. 

Patrick watches as school bus pulls into the parking lot and drives by them. He wonders what kind of class trip brings anyone out to the middle of nowhere Milwaukee. It makes more sense a moment later when he sees the guys in matching maroon and gold filing off the bus. Their jackets have the University of Minnesota logo on the back. They’re probably on their way to play against Northwestern.

He looks at Pete, about to say something about sneaking on their bus and catching a ride home, when he catches him staring. Fucking Pete. He’s probably checking out someone’s ass. And okay, the view is good, but Patrick is standing _right there_. He could try to be a little subtle.

Stupid jocks and their stupid working bus. Stupid boyfriend checking out other guys. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets and kicks at the pavement. He kind of wishes he smoked, at least that would give him something to do instead of wait and stress. 

“I’ll be back,” he says.

“Where are you going?” Pete asks, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“Away.”

Pete frowns at him.

“I just need to walk around. Come find me when Andy gets off the phone.”

Patrick wanders the food court for a second time, but there’s a scarce few vegetarian options and none of them seem appetizing. He’d been looking forward to a meal that didn’t come in a wrapper. If there’s something really wrong with the van, if they need to get it towed, he doesn’t even know how they’ll get home. 

He wanders into a souvenir shop and wanders back out a moment later. Usually he buys something small for his mom, but Wisconsin is hardly a place he’ll never come back to. He hits up the bathroom and plans to head back out to the van. Andy should have news by now.

When he pulls open the door, he’s surprised to find Pete grinning on the other side. Without a word Pete steps forward, his hands coming up to Patrick’s shoulders, pushing him backwards. Patrick watches as the door swings close, doesn’t argue as Pete leads him into the farthest stall and locks the door behind him.

“Dude, what – ”

Pete bends his head to kiss him and Patrick is not complaining. Pete’s cold fingers are sneaking underneath his hoodie, resting at the small of his back. Patrick winds his arms around Pete’s neck and pulls him in closer. There’s never enough time to be alone when they’re on tour. It feels like ages since Patrick’s had this. 

“Andy said the mechanic won’t be here for like 45 minutes,” Pete tells him a moment later.

“I think I’m okay with this,” Patrick grins. 

That much time means Pete is probably expecting to get blown. Patrick isn’t usually a fan of being on his knees in dirty bathroom stalls, but it’s been so fucking long he doesn’t even care. Forty five minutes could be enough time for them to both get off twice if they play their cards right. He pulls down the zipper of Pete’s hoodie and pushes his shirt up enough to rub a hand over Pete’s stomach. 

“Did you have anything in particular in mind?” Patrick asks. He’s pretty easy for Pete, if he’s being honest. He still likes to make him work for it. Besides, he’s pretty sure Pete gets off on him being a tease. Pete laughs his stupid laugh and buries his face in the crook of Patrick’s neck. 

“Yeah, actually,” Pete mumbles, his breath hot against Patrick’s skin. He gropes Patrick’s dick through his jeans and if Patrick wasn’t already hard, he definitely is now.

The sound of the door opening followed by footsteps startles Patrick out of the moment, but Pete doesn’t seem concerned at all. There are at least three other guys in the bathroom by the sound of it, maybe four. Pete’s hands are at his shoulders, pushing him down, and Patrick fights him for a moment before he goes. 

“What the fuck?” he whispers, quiet as he can. Pete doesn’t respond, just grins down at him. 

The footsteps get closer.

“I think it’s this one,” says a voice that is too nearby for comfort. 

The door of the stall next to them opens and Pete’s hand curls underneath Patrick’s chin. He turns Patrick’s head towards the back of the stall and Patrick sees instantly where this is going. There’s a glory hole in this stall, the edges are covered in duct tape and Patrick can see the fingers of whoever is on the other side poking through. 

“Anyone in there?”

“Yeah,” Pete answers. “We’ve been waiting.”

There’s laughter from the other side of the wall and it’s not just one of them.

“Well, shit,” the voice says and Patrick hears the sound of a zipper. 

“Pete,” Patrick hisses. 

Pete quickly puts a hand over his mouth.

“Watch,” he whispers.

Patrick doesn’t move. He watches as the guy on the other side puts his dick through the hole, watches as Pete takes a step closer. He watches as Pete wraps his hand around the guy’s dick, watches as Pete starts to jerk him off. When Pete makes a come here motion with his other hand, Patrick stands up automatically, takes a step towards him. Pete takes him by the hand and kisses him. 

“Now you,” he says. 

Pete takes his hand away and Patrick replaces it with his own. Pete leans in again and presses a kiss against his jaw.

“I want to watch you,” he says. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fuck,” Patrick groans. 

He is so easy. And he hates Pete a little bit for knowing it. When Pete pushes at his shoulders this time Patrick goes without protest. He starts with a few small licks and then slides his mouth down over the head of the guy’s dick. The moan from the other side of the stall is all the encouragement he needs to keep going. Pete pulls off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair, rests his hand at the back of Patrick’s neck.

“Pretend it’s me,” he says. 

Patrick moans around the dick in his mouth, because Pete loses his mind when he does that. 

“Fuck,” the dude says, drawing out the syllables to at least four or five. 

Pete pulls his hand away and pushes him down as far as he can go. Patrick takes a long slow breath in through his nose and swallows. From the noises coming from the other stall, it’s possible that Patrick is ruining this guy for life. He’s a little proud of himself, he’s not gonna lie. Pete moves to stand behind him, one foot on either side of Patrick’s legs. He has one hand resting on Patrick’s shoulder, the other slides up into his hair, fingers tightening. 

“Make him come,” Pete says, before pushing him down again.

Patrick swallows again and a moment later chokes when the guy comes down his throat. He pulls off, coughing and reaches up to wipe his mouth off when Pete catches his hand. 

“Not yet,” he says. “You’re not done yet.”

“Shit. I think I lost some IQ points,” the voice on the other side of the stall says. Patrick hears him zipping up his jeans. The others laugh.

“Out of my way, it’s my turn,” says another voice. 

This guy is bigger than the last but Pete doesn’t let him waste any time. He’s controlling Patrick’s rhythm, his fingers still twisted in his hair. This guy is a lot more vocal than the last and his moans are going straight to Patrick’s dick. He reaches down to rub himself through his jeans. This isn’t what Patrick had in mind when Pete pulled him in to the stall. It’s not bad, not by a long shot, but it had been nice when Pete was touching him, when he thought he might get an orgasm or two out of this. 

“Jerk him off,” Pete says, releasing his grip suddenly. 

Patrick does what he’s told, hopes that with Pete’s hands not in his hair that they’ll be going elsewhere. He feels Pete moving again, feels him nudging his legs apart and then Pete’s kneeling behind him. His mouth is on Patrick’s neck, one hand slips underneath his t-shirt to rub at his stomach and the other, _thank god_ , is tugging at the button of his jeans. Patrick’s jeans and underwear are down around his knees a moment later and he has never been so grateful in his life. 

He hears Pete spit and a second later his fingers are trailing down the cleft of his ass. He rests his forehead against the wall, trying to bury his groan as Pete pushes two fingers inside of him. 

“Hurry up,” Pete mumbles into his skin, “You’re keeping the other boys waiting.”

Patrick wants to ask if he gets this guy off, does that mean he can come too? But instead he keeps his questions to himself and jerks the guy faster. He leans in to suck on his balls and it isn’t much longer before Patrick feels them draw up tight. He tries to move out of the way -- he isn’t really in the mood for a face shot -- but with Pete right behind him, there really isn’t anywhere for him to go.

When the guy finally comes, it ends up mostly dripping down his chin. Patrick sighs and manages to wipe some of it off before the next guy sticks his dick through the hole.

Patrick can’t help feeling that this third guy isn’t getting his best work. His jaw started to ache in the middle of guy number two; guy number three is getting no enthusiasm at all. And Pete, the absolute bastard, has been fingering him so slowly it’s almost worse than when he wasn’t touching him at all. Patrick’s torn between wanting to push back onto his fingers for more and not wanting it at all because spit makes poor lube in the best of circumstances. 

A minute goes by and Patrick pulls off. He jerks the guy slowly as he catches his breath.

“Pete,” he mumbles, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Sure you can, baby,” Pete whispers. He twists his fingers, pulls out and pushes in a third. Patrick bites his lip to keep from crying out. “Do it for me.”

Patrick wraps his lips back around Guy Number 3 and sucks with as much vigor as he can muster. It must not be too bad since the guy is mumbling a steady stream of encouragements. 

“You’re so good,” Pete says. He’s easing his fingers out now. Patrick can feel him shifting. “So good, you have no idea.”

Pete’s hands pull at his hips, helping him up off his knees. He’s stiff from being on the floor for so long, he’ll be surprised if he doesn’t have bruises there tomorrow. He feels Pete’s fingers opening him up again and he spreads his legs as far as his jeans will allow. 

He’s expecting Pete to fuck him like this and he’s okay with it. He’ll pay for it tomorrow, but that’s tomorrow. Right now he just wants to get off, doesn’t care how. He isn’t expecting it when he feels the hot, wet heat of Pete’s tongue licking him open. 

He gasps and the dude fucking his mouth takes that opportunity to thrust a little deeper than Patrick is ready for. He gags and starts to pull off, but it’s too late. The guy is already coming in his mouth. Patrick swallows what he can, closes his eyes and braces himself against the wall. There’s sounds of shuffling, a zipper being done up and another coming down. 

Patrick’s throat is already raw, but he’ll do this for the rest of the night as long as Pete keeps doing that thing with his tongue. He spits into his palm and starts off slow with this guy, works his fist over the head. The dude is already moaning and fucking up into his hand. These guys are even easier than Pete is; it’s a little ridiculous.

When Pete’s tongue eventually disappears, Patrick whimpers a little at the loss.

“Ready for me?” he asks and Patrick can hear him unbuckling his belt. Patrick just nods, he’s not sure if he could even make his voice work at this moment. 

“Suck him first,” Pete says.

Patrick goes down on the guy until his mouth meets his fingers. Pete grips his hips tightly and starts to push into him. Patrick bobs his head and doesn’t think about how much it hurts. Once he’s all the way in he bends down and presses his lips to Patrick’s ear.

“I didn’t forget,” he murmurs, “that you wanted this.”

Patrick would laugh if he could. He’d almost forgotten he’d told Pete. It was over a month ago. They’d fucked in the back of the van while the others were hanging out with some friends. Patrick was bent over an amp. Pete stuck his fingers into his mouth and he’d sucked on them until Pete fucked him into an orgasm. 

“I think I’d like to try that for real some time,” Patrick had said, curling up in Pete’s lap afterward. “Sucking someone off while -- you know.”

Patrick thinks he’s going to have to be more careful with his offhand comments in the future. This is good, make no mistake. It could have been better planned, but it is _definitely_ good. 

Pete’s not holding anything back. The moaning from the other side of the wall is almost drowned out by the sound of Pete’s grunts as he shoves his hips forward. The cock in his mouth slips in and out in time with Pete’s thrusts. 

Pete slides his fingers into his hair again, pushes his head down. Patrick thinks Pete might be giving him too much credit. He isn’t exactly the deep throat champion Pete seems to think he is. 

“All the way,” Pete says. 

Patrick’s only response is a garbled moan as he goes down.

“Jackson, hurry the fuck up.” The voice sounds distant. “We gotta get back to the bus.”

“Okay, okay, I’m almost there.”

“Come on,” Pete says. “I wanna hear you choke.”

Patrick is torn between a desire to punch Pete in the face and come right then and there. Unfortunately, he does neither. His eyes are watering as he swallows, he’s not sure if it’s from the ache in his jaw or Pete’s fingers in his hair. 

The guy thrusts up at the same time Pete pushes him down and there goes Patrick’s gag reflex. That’s his limit. He coughs, trying to pull off as much as he can with Pete holding him in place. 

“Fuck,” the guy shouts. He comes in hot spurts and Patrick doesn’t even get the option to spit, his throat is already working. Without another word the guy is gone. 

Pete reaches down, wraps a hand around Patrick’s hard on, and draws a long low moan out of his ragged throat. Patrick is only vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps heading out the door.

“Fucking finally.” Patrick’s voice is wrecked. “Come already, asshole.”

Pete laughs and tightens his fist. Two pulls later, Patrick’s coming hard. His knees buckle and Pete holds him up, finishes inside of him a moment later.

“Oh my god,” Pete says as he pulls Patrick upright. Patrick looks back and sees him grinning as he tucks himself back into his jeans. “That was awesome.”

Patrick leans back against Pete’s chest, catches his breath a moment. He’s sticky and sore everywhere. Pete is going to have to drag him back to the van.

“I hate you,” Patrick says. “I’d punch in the face if I had any energy left.”

“Whatever,” Pete says, rubbing a hand over Patrick’s stomach. “You fucking loved it.”

“Help me with my pants, jackass.”

Pete laughs and wiggles out from behind him. He bends down, stopping to press a kiss and a bite to Patrick’s hip before pulling his jeans back up. He rubs a thumb over Patrick’s chin, wipes away some of the come and spit.

“Come here,” Pete says. “I’ll clean you up.”

Pete takes him by the hand and leads him out to the row of sinks. He runs a bit of paper towel under the faucet and gently wipes Patrick’s face clean. He rests his fingertips against Patrick’s swollen mouth and leans in to kiss him softly.

“You owe me like, eight blowjobs, dude.”

“Hey, that’s not–”

“ _Eight._ ” Patrick repeats. “What am I supposed to tell my mom when she asks why my voice is all fucked up?”

“I’ll buy you some tea,” Pete says, hopeful.

“Let’s go.”

They meet the others back at the van a few minutes later. Andy looks annoyed. Joe looks blazed out of his mind. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Andy asks, arms crossed.

Patrick sips his tea. Pete shrugs.

“Getting laid,” he says. 

Patrick hands his tea to Andy and punches Pete in the stomach. Joe laughs.

“You deserved that,” Andy says as he hands Patrick back his cup. “Get in the van.”

Pete takes over driving when they leave Milwaukee and Patrick begrudgingly climbs into the passenger seat. Joe passes out in the back seat almost immediately. 

They don’t talk on the drive home. Pete taps the steering wheel in time with the radio. He pulls off the highway and rests a hand on Patrick’s knee. It stays there a moment before sliding up his thigh. Patrick eyes him suspiciously. 

“After we drop Joe off,” Pete says. “I’ll start paying down that debt.”

Patrick curls his fingers around Pete’s and squeezes.

“Acceptable,” he says, smiling.


End file.
